Jonathan S. Pembroke's journal of lunacy and bad feelings

michael moorcock

A few months back, I mentioned that I would address the concept of spec fiction that deviated from mythological roots. I realize this is a somewhat contentious issue and many authors may feel differently than I do – but fuck it, it’s my blog, so I’ll say what I want.

Mythology is one of those awesome part of a writers toolkit; it contains romance, father-son strife, monsters, acts of heroism, and all other aspects of the human experience. It also has good concepts of origin stories, world-building, and apocalypse scenarios. Western mythology, especially Greek mythology, is firmly entrenched in the foundation of first-world society, and is woven through the fabric of our culture. Its facets are identifiable and relatable to readers. Is it any wonder writers love incorporating it? And writers being what they are, tend to take some liberties with the body of work.

(Muse: Uh, ain’t no one taking liberties with this mythological body.)

Quiet, you. The fact is that when writers take that incredible mass of tales and works, they warp them to fit their own stories. You see in work such as the Percy Jackson series or in the Clash of the Titans movies,bothversions. Minotaurs and medusae (plural, since the both titles originally referred to one monster) run loose in tabletop role-playing games and video games. The mythology written in Marvel’s Thor comics deviates significantly from the original Norse (and Greek, Egyptian, Celtic, Hindu, and others, for that matter). Tolkein’s and Michael Moorcock’s works were heavily influenced by Norse and Finnish mythology, respectively. Even Stephen King incorporated (highlight for spoiler) Greek goddess Persephone as his antagonist in Duma Key. In no case did the authors/creators stick strictly to the original tales.

And I have spoken with some authors who feel like this an offense on par with plagiarism. But again, I ask: so what?

I fall in the camp that fiction authors have exactly one duty: they have to tell the best story they can, that comes from their heart. They are writing entertainment, or maybe something that makes people think. They aren’t writing reference books, they aren’t writing textbooks, where accuracy is not only desirable but compulsory.

Ah, but I hear you say, what about other accuracy? Do good authors not go to great lengths to provide details that add realism? If a scene is set in a smithy, and they are unable to describe an anvil, does it not detract? I agree, it does, but there is a key difference. Anvils exist. Smithies exist. Medieval cottages exist(ed). People cook real chickens over fires. Et cetera. Myths? They were made up to begin with.

I guess I just find it hard to believe that we can shift a story to an alternate earth where magic or walking zombies are accepted without a glance – but because someone had a yellow-haired God of Thunder instead of a red-headed one, that the story is somehow less authentic. In any event, who is to say the myths aren’t authentic to the world in which they take place?

And even this is situational. If a story involves a literature professor who is on the run from vampires and he has to remember the password to the safe containing the blow-up doll that glows ultraviolet in the dark which he will use to seduce the vampire king and then fry him, and is told the password is the name of the Greek hero who slew the Hydra, it would best if it were accurate to understanding of the world. (It’s Hercules, by the way.) But that’s detail, not driving plot device.

Making a mountain of a molehill? Perhaps I am. I just don’t feel this is a big deal. I do love the richness and depth of mythological tradition, and not just those of western cultures. The ramayana is one of my favorite epics. But as I look at all those tales, all that information, the wealth of wonderful ideas … and I can’t help but steal it, bend it, make it my own.

Back from my trip to the desert. I spent time hanging drywall and grinding floors with my son, which was a ton of fun, but not really. Sliced up my hands and basically burned out. I had to come back to rest. Anyway …

Panning through old articles over at Mental Floss, I found this question and it was kind of intriguing: if you were stranded on an island and could only have one author – not a specific book but one author – with you, who would you pick?

Zounds. I had to think about this one. At first I just took the question in the implied spirit, as to who would be the one who would provide the most mental stimulation. But after a while, I realized I would need a more comprehensive examination. Being on an island is a survival situation, after all. So I thought this through.

First, have to throw out the dead folks. Tolkein, Zimmer Bradley, et al … Great conversationalists with a wealth of knowledge but not much use in building a raft or spearing a crab. Corpses usually aren't, unless they are simultaneously trying to eat you. (Zombie Tolkein? That's an idea, albeit one that might get me lynched by certain readership.)

I winnowed down those to who would actually help. Michael Moorcock would busy himself waxing lyrical about the Cosmic Balance. Charlaine Harris would be waiting for the local vampire population to help. Harry Turtledove would spend more time re-writing how we ended up on the island, adding dragons and aliens, than figuring out how we could get out of there. George R. R. Martin has too much writing to do to help with the heavy lifting.

It really comes down to two. On the one hand, Brandon Sanderson would probably be a good choice. One, he's young-ish, with a strong back. Two, he's a proven world builder, which speaks to strong organizational skills. Three, IMO, he's an ascending author and still has a strong work ethic. (On an authorship note, I like Sanderson's work and I think I could learn something from him.)

On the other hand, Suzanne Collins has some experience (at least writing) about survival situations. Knowledge is power. Plus, she's easy on the eyes and has been known to be redheaded at times, so there's snuggling under the coconut trees while waiting for rescue. (On an authorship note, I think Collins could give a good seminar on writing for young adults.)

If there was a guy I ever aspired to really emulate in terms of style and epic-building, it would be Moorcock. (I attempt to emulate Stephen King for his level of success, but then, doesn't everyone want to be that successful?) I remember first reading the Elric books when I was in college and not only being drawn into the characterization of his anti-hero and the brooding tale, but the sheer scope of his universe. The idea of a hero who hopped between realities and across time to struggle against incarnations of the same villains resonated in my little pea brain the way few others had.

Moorcock is personally interesting to me. He is an anarchist, while I tend to be more of a libertarian. Not the same but some similarities – and those similarities carry over into his writing, which is one of the things that draws me in. He also likes to make his points obliquely, without preaching, which is a sure turn off to me. And he's somewhat self-deprecating, which I appreciate, since I do not take myself (or anyone else) too seriously.

I'd love to have a beer with the big guy someday. Keep writing, MM. We love you, buddy.